Dr Mike C. Gibson PhD
Please, don't let the flowers
on my grave wither and die,
because if you do, I know
Mum and Dad will surely cry.
All Saints church stands tall, dignified,
not far from the grave where I lie,
A church filled with soulful people,
but ‘miss you, Mike, ' I hear you sigh.
In mellow eventide or chapel,
I hear the sharp bells ring out.
Once Dad took me into the belfry,
I loved the thrill without a doubt.
But there is a wind so cold,
as it blows across my chest.
I thank God for singing birds;
happy songs I love the best.
I'll sing a song of sunshine,
my, I love the many seas so blue,
playing on the golden beaches
of the Med, Greece and Malta too.
My life has never ever been easy,
about DMD, there's much to say.
But I've always done my best,
to smile, to pray up to my last day.
I loved to play War Games 40K,
in the pub and far into the night,
friends around the table, such fun,
it's normal and, to me, so very right.
I studied hard to go to Uni,
and was proud of my PhD,
Oh, what new doors opened!
R & D on ‘Big Guns' if you please.
My thesis built on solid Autofrettage,
it drove the Prof H. wild with delight.
Then I went to work, kept on thinking,
on gun problems, hours into the night.
Many thanks, Vicki. Also Tom and Charlie.
Me: the boy who couldn't even walk,
but I rode Charlie in fields of daisies,
led by Vicki, who smiled at all my talk.
There are friends I miss, to challenge,
to prove we can be the Queen's Best,
so bend your back and work hard, lads.
I did. Can you? Be a cut above the rest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem